Luck of the Irish
by Play For Kittens
Summary: Doyle's moping in Caritas when a certain lawyer buys him a drink... Then sings on stage. What man could resist his advances while thoroughly drunk?


**Disclaimer: Lindsey and Doyle aren't mine... neither is the Angelverse, or Caritas, and do I have to continue this? It's depressing. Owned my ME/Joss Whedon etc...**

**Male/Male (yay!) - kissage and singing...**

* * *

**[Lindsey]**  
  
He was plain enough for me to notice him instantly. In a demon karaoke bar, the quiet unpretty ones are those who stand out. He was slunched over the bar with a glass half-full - or half-empty - of a dark drink. Possibly Guinness. With a quick glance around the room full of oddly shaped creatures, just in case, I made my way over with a casual stride. I didn't even earn a smile as he glanced across at me in the seat beside him.  
  
Ordering a drink for myself, deliberately requesting the same as him, I looked steadily at him until he turned to face me.  
  
"What?" He asked, his voice rough with drink. "Did you want something?"  
  
Irish, I noted. "Refill?" I offered, eyes flickering down to his drink.  
  
I could see the mental battle in his conscience. One hand he probably shouldn't accept a drink from another man, but on the other... Alcohol. Free alcohol. As predicted, he nodded a tiny bit and pushed the glass towards the barman.  
  
"Thanks," he said, offering a little smile as the glass reappeared a few seconds later with twice as much liquid. I took my own drink, lifting it up in acknowledgement before taking a sip. "What's your name?"  
  
"Lindsey," I told him. "Same question?"  
  
"Doyle," he said after a few seconds. He held out his hand, and I shook it. Strangely enough, his hand was slightly clammy, like he was nervous.   
  
"Pleasure to meet you."  
  
"An' you," he replied, but the hesitant tone to his voice made him sound none too sure. "You come here a lot?"  
  
"Occasionally," I lied. In all honesty I came here more than anywhere else; except work, of course. I looked around to the stage where a Fyarl demon in a red furry headband with bobbles was grunting out the chorus of 'Oops I Did It Again'. "...Though sometimes I wonder why."  
  
"I think it's relaxing," he stated after staring at the demon for a few seconds. "Place for a man to come sit with a bunch of ugly things trying to sing. No violence."  
  
"Not a fan of fighting, then?"  
  
"Violence is bad."  
  
"You sound like a man who'd know..." I shrugged, making a statement that could be seen as prying seem totally innocent with a little smile. Not that a man drinking his beer that quickly would notice too much.  
  
"I avoid it actually. You'd be amazed at the excuses I can make without thinking."  
  
"Must help worming out of tight spots," I smiled. He smiled back, and it was a lopsided drunken smile that I instantly liked. I could tell that smile would be lethally charming if he had full controls of the muscles. "So, do you have a job to go to in the morning?"  
  
"Yeah. I'm like a detective's half-demon sidekick," he laughed, though it was more like a hiccough. "It's like something out of a cheesy film. What about you? You a working lad?"  
  
"Half-demon?" I repeated, ignoring his question. Interesting. I guess nothing's what it looks like in this city. "You're half demon?"  
  
"Brachen, yeah," he sighed. Didn't sound too happy about it, either. "Luckily I can stay in this charming face."  
  
"Father or mother?"  
  
"Father," he said with a frown was forming. "Y'know I'm starting to think I'm being interviewed here. Who are you?"  
  
"Just a man taking an interest," I smiled my most reassuring smile. Luckily the slightly tense moment was interrupted by the Fyarl demon finishing his song to a very loud, very amused applauding from the audience.   
  
"You up next, honey?" came a voice by my ear. I turned my head to be greeted by the sight of the Host, who owned this place. His green and red horns, though potentially threatening on anyone else, made him seem positively beaming with friendliness.   
  
I raised my eyebrows doubtfully. "I didn't bring my guitar."  
  
"I'm sure I get you one no problem," he said instantly with a dismissive wave of his hand. "You saying you didn't come here to sing?"  
  
"I wasn't planning to," I sighed, with a glance at Doyle. He was watching me intently. I smiled. "Sure. I'll sing if I get a decent guitar." 

**[Doyle]**  
  
I can't believe my luck.   
  
I feel like I've been talking to a superstar now. Everyone here seems to know him as he climbs up to the stage. They applaud before he even sits down. The Host is clapping the loudest, that green man in the bright coloured suit; from the glint in his eyes, he's looking forward to this. I've been here a couple of times to relax, but apparently I choose times when this man is busy because I've never seen him here before. I vaguely wonder if he's all human, not that it matters, 'cause why else would he be in a demon bar? Sure, there are a few humans scattered about but they've all got the dark look to 'em, like they've got dealings with the demons.  
  
I looked down at my drink the moment he looked towards me. His bright blue eyes were far too intense - they looked through the crowd and right at him, almost into me. I may not be completely sober but that don't mean I'm willing to take looks that powerful from another bloke, thanks.  
  
Plus I had to hide the blush that appeared unbidden on my face.  
  
I heard the sounds of him strumming experimentally on the strings, a quiet sound that was only picked up to a tiny degree by the microphone in front of him. I suddenly hoped he wasn't a mind-reader or something as thoughts that I would definitely not like him to get into sped through my mind - always did have a thing for musical folk.   
  
I guessed he'd be looking at his guitar now, so I risked a glance and sure enough his eyes were downcast. He strummed a few chords, nothing special, and the crowd went dead silent.  
  
His voice was beautiful. And I don't just mean good, either; I mean heart-wrenchingly gorgeous with a touch of wow. I didn't recognise the song and got the impression it was one of his own, a glimpse into his soul and thoughts, though the voice was too enchanting to pick out words as much as I would have liked.   
  
I didn't take my eyes off him throughout the whole damn song. He seemed so confident in himself up there, staring blankly ahead and completely lost in the music, so perfectly calm. His face was crunched up in concentration though, making him look almost angry, and I drank in every aspect of that handsome face.  
  
So, a handsome stranger with a beautiful voice bought me a drink.  
  
The luck of the Irish doesn't even begin to cover this.

**[Lindsey]**  
  
He watched me through that entire song. he thought I wasn't watching him back with my eyes staring at nothing ahead of me, but I was. Sometimes, I've learnt it's best not to look directly at the more fierce of clients and have picked up this handy little trick of watching people out of the corner of my eye. This was a promising evening so far.  
  
Brachen struck a bell, though. I was sure I'd heard something about that breed recently, aside from the massacre a while back which apparently he was not involved in, as he was sat over there ordering another drink without moving his eyes off me. At least it gave me something to look up in the morning.  
  
If I managed to get to work in the morning, anyway.  
  
My song ended. It was one of my favourites, and with the half-demon watching me I kept my voice as perfect as possible. Kept as much emotion as possible in my tone.  
  
I passed the guitar back to the demon who had leant it to me and, paying no attention to the clapping that had erupted around me, I headed straight back to where I had been sat before.  
  
"Quite a performance," smiled Doyle, who had turned his face away from me the moment I started walking off stage. Now he was staring at a damp patch on the bar rather than look at me.  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"Got a great voice," he said again. "Really. You should go professional."  
  
"No, thanks," I laughed, taking the compliment graciously. "I've got a pretty exciting career as it is."  
  
"And what career would that be?" he asked. He still hadn't looked up at me.  
  
"Well now that would take the mystery out of it, wouldn't it?" I smirked. That shocked him into looking up at me. "Oh, don't worry. It's nothing sinister."  
  
His mouth opened and shut a couple of times like a fish out of water. Apparently I'd forced him into being speechless. If a little barely noticeable flirting caused this expression on him, I couldn't wait to see the look on his face when I stole a kiss.

**[Doyle]**  
  
Did he just flirt? I wondered. I was gaping a little openly at him. Well it wasn't exactly my fault, slipping in the mystery card when my mind was all fuzzy with alcohol and I was still reeling from the whole sexiness of the singing.  
  
The greatness. I meant greatness. Not sexiness.  
  
"Right, that's it, I'm done with drink tonight," I groaned. Too many bad thoughts. Or good, depending where you were sitting.  
  
"Refill?" he asked with that gorgeo-...annoying smirk still in place. "My treat."  
  
"God yes," I said.   
  
And you know what? After that drink and a few others, I was feeling a lot more comfortable with the flirting. Everyone looks better through the bottom of a pint glass, and he wasn't exactly hard on the eyes beforehand. I was starting to blush like a silly schoolgirl and when he complimented me, which seemed to be happening a good few times over that hour which passed way too quickly, and when his hand settled next to mine without actually touching on the bar with mere millimetres of air between our skin, my entire body went warm in that especially pleasant way. I wanted to move the hand, nudge his accidentally, just for physical contact... But before I could, he was slipping his arm around my waist to pull me slightly closer.  
  
"You don't mind," he whispered with his cool breath tickling my ear, "that I find you attractive?"  
  
"N-no," I breathed. Suddenly it didn't matter that we were surrounded by people, or that I could feel the Host's eyes on us. All I could feel was his fingers tracing up my arm, all I could see was his bright blue eyes watching me expectantly. "No problem with that at all right now..."  
  
"I've got a little place nearby," he smiled, edging onto a smirk. "Want to get out of this crowd?"  
  
Oh, and that could only go one way. It was horribly obvious just how much his apparent attraction was returned, and not only by the flush in my cheeks. This was almost embarrassing. "Sure," I said anyway, despite the doubt in my mind.  
  
Like I could resist, as his lips touched mine in a chaste kiss.  
  
"Good."

**[Lindsey]**  
  
He mentioned Angel. Not directly, but he did. Now as I was leading him out of the bar and in the direction of my apartment, I was disappointed. My mind should have been doing elated somersaults at the possibilities of this situation, yet it wasn't. It was silent, calm, burning - and all my thoughts were directed towards this simple Irish drunkard beside me.   
  
Oh well. I could think about that in the morning, when my head was less hazy.  
  
"I really didn't expect to be going home with anyone tonight," he said. I looked at him and wondered vaguely how I'd thought him 'unpretty' when I walked in. Must be the drink speaking though, I guessed.  
  
"Must be the luck of the Irish," I grinned.


End file.
